


Lucky

by alexjosten



Series: Domestic Bliss [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathtub Sex, Blowjobs, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Honeymoon, M/M, POV Neil Josten, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, bottom andrew, it's a special occasion ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 11:38:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15971555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexjosten/pseuds/alexjosten
Summary: Sometimes Neil can't believe how lucky he is.





	Lucky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonix/gifts).



> We sent eachother wildly different writing prompts but somehow my fic carries on right after hers, because we're brain twins or something. Treat yourself and go read ["Love Me Like That"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15969899).

Sometimes Neil can’t believe how lucky he is.

It’s easy to get wrapped up in the miserable winding path he meandered for the first nineteen years of his life. It’s hard to forget, when every mirror is a stark reminder of who his father was and what he had to go through to escape him for good. So much as catching a glimpse of the deep scars on the backs of his hands can be enough to set him back on a bad day. The FBI said he was lucky to be alive. Neil felt that if luck had any part to being born a Wesninski in the first place, he wanted nothing to do with it.

No, the luck that Neil allows himself to feel is the warm pride that flutters up in his chest when he thinks about his family. Not his biological family—never them—but his Foxes, the family that he was fortunate enough to find at Palmetto. They have a VIP booth tonight and they’re all together, reunited for the first time since Neil’s graduation four years ago. He watches fondly from the bar as Allison slaps Kevin’s back during a drinking game, Dan pressed to her side and laughing with Nicky’s arm slung around her shaking shoulders. Matt is flipping through his phone, showing Katelyn and Aaron his newborn’s photos. Renee is chatting to Erik, who flew out with Nicky just for this weekend, while Abby and Betsy listen intently. Wymack sits gruff and silent next to them, keeping an eye on Kevin’s alcohol intake while nursing a whiskey of his own. It was a little bizarre, seeing his old coach, team nurse and therapist together like this at Eden’s, but it was a special occasion after all.

Roland pushes the first tray of drinks across the bar, and Neil hoists it up, giving Andrew a wordless look that he’ll come back to help him with the second half. Eden’s is a little understaffed tonight, and with a group as large as theirs the bartending staff are struggling to keep up. Andrew makes himself comfortable on the bar stool to wait and shoos Neil off.

Even apart, he can feel his heavy gaze follow him through the crowd, like a string tethering them and winding around all the bodies in between. For someone who spent his life trying to avoid being tied down to anything, anywhere and anyone, Neil finds it’s a comfortable weight to bear. Andrew is the knot that ties him to the docks. Loose enough to let him bob and float on the waves, but strong enough to prevent him from coming unmoored and lost at sea.

Neil delivers the round to a whoop of cheers and applause. His friends are merry and he doesn’t really feel like setting down a tray of drinks is deserving of such fanfare, but an embarrassed smile betrays his face as they shower him with undue praise. He tries to hide it as he collects their empty glasses, but Allison coos over him and Matt even snaps a photo, still in Dad mode and forgetting that Neil is not his son (despite what he tries to claim otherwise).

Renee breaks off from her conversation to offer him some reprieve, and Neil can’t fathom why he ever felt so uncomfortable around her during his first year at Palmetto. Years of her coming over to their apartment for spontaneous baking afternoons with Andrew helped him warm up to her, especially when she always was considerate enough to pick out savoury recipes that he could enjoy. He gives her a grateful look as she passes over a handful of empty shot glasses.

“What time is your flight tomorrow?” She asks.

“In the morning. We’ll leave at nine.”

“I’ll pop by at eight to pick up the cats then.”

“Thanks again. You’ll send us updates?” He feels a little twinge of embarrassment at how sentimental he’s become, but Renee takes it in her stride.

“Of course, every day.”

Neil picks up the tray and is sucked back into the crowd on his way to the bar. He navigates through to the unstaffed section of the counter to place down the tray, and then is swallowed back into the queue. He’s five people deep away from the bar when he spots Andrew, who hasn’t left his seat. He’s guarding a half tray of drinks, the bar staff still running wild trying to complete the last of their group’s orders.

Andrew’s gaze snaps to his like a magnet, and he can feel the resistance as he reluctantly pulls away from Neil to continue talking to a man seated next to him. He’s a young, wiry thing with swoopy hair and a penchant for leaning far enough into Andrew’s space to make his flirtation obvious from a mile away, but not far enough for Andrew to have reason to pull a knife on him. Andrew’s body language screams boredom and disinterest, and Neil can’t help but chuckle to himself. It’s interesting seeing the tables being turned for once.

Usually Neil was the one who was approached at bars. People with predilections for redheads would trail their fingers along the small of his back but few could resist recoiling when he turned to face them and they saw the scars on his cheeks. Most would awkwardly trip over themselves and try to save face somehow by laying it on thick with compliments. If Neil’s blank, unimpressed stare didn’t drive them away, Andrew winding an arm around his waist a minute later and flicking his fingers at them dismissively usually was enough to get them to scamper. Neil could never really tell why people found Andrew so intimidating, because personally he thought his little possessive streaks were more endearing than anything else.

He figures it’s probably time to return the favour, but he knows Andrew can more than handle himself, and the man flirting with him looks fairly non-threatening. Neil is three people away in the crowd when he begins to overhear what’s being said.

“I just mean, wow… talk about a gun show. I bet you could bench me.”

Neil snorts and has to cover his snickering behind a hand. The guy isn’t wrong—Andrew is a sight to behold in the gym. Neil had tripped on the treadmill and pulled the emergency stop cord on more than one occasion when Andrew made the mistake to do weights within his peripheral vision (they now schedule their routines differently as a result). He also picks up Neil to toss him onto their bed regularly, so yes, Andrew most definitely could bench this guy. Not that he’d touch him with a ten foot barge pole.

Andrew remains silent. Swoopy hair guy continues.

“Are you sure you’re not a model? I really feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

Other than the photoshoots they were contractually obligated to do through their team’s PR department, Andrew declines most sponsorship deals that wanted anything more from him. He remains relatively anonymous outside of the Exy world, although within it he’s still a big name. He’s been featured on the cover of multiple Exy magazines, and Neil has them all stored in a drawer at home, much to Andrew’s great unamusement. Of course, Andrew’s reluctance to take on new sponsors didn’t stop brands like Calvin Klein from sending underwear to him in influencer packages. And if Andrew occasionally stretched out on their bed in all his five foot zero, ripped abs and defined pecs glory while wearing them, well, only Neil would ever know.

Distracted, Neil doesn’t catch whether Andrew acknowledges the guy with a response. But he hears his next desperate attempt:

“Are your jeans painted on? Those thighs. You could crush a man with those.”

It was a fair observation. Andrew’s jeans were sinful and ~~probably~~ definitely illegal in at least five states. As for crushing his skull with them, well Neil had definitely considered the possibility last time Andrew sat on his face. Of all the ways Neil has imagined dying, this is the one he minds the least.

Neil’s at his back now and Andrew knows he’s there, but he doesn’t acknowledge either of them, content to see how this would play out. Inexplicably, Roland places an Americano next to their drinks then returns to mixing a cocktail. Neil wonders if Wymack decided Kevin had enough for the night and it was time to start sobering him up.

“Are you done?”

“Well, only if you’re ready to get out of here.” Swoopy hair guy leans forward and caresses Andrew’s knee suggestively.

Before Neil can even finish registering his disgust, Andrew picks up the cup of coffee and casually pours it out on the guy’s hand not unlike he was watering their plants at home.

The unholy shriek that wrenches from the guy’s throat as he jerks back is satisfying. Neil buckles over and has to muffle his laughter in the back of Andrew’s neck. He can feel Andrew’s fingers card through his hair appreciatively and the rumble of his voice against his skin.

“I am, but not with you. Begone.” Andrew says dismissively as Neil follows up with with a smirk at the guy over his shoulder.

Clutching his seared hand, the man absconds into the crowd with only a barbed insult tossed over his shoulder in retreat. Andrew settles the cup back onto its saucer with a clink and pushes it across the counter for Roland to clean up later. Then, he turns on his bar stool to bracket Neil’s hips between his knees.

“What are you so smug about?”

“Mmm, just thinking about how lucky I am to be dating the hottest guy here. Everyone’s tripping over themselves for you. And you’re all mine.”

Andrew mimes retching. “We’re not dating.”

“I guess not.” Neil smiles secretively. “Did you really just order a coffee to do that?”

“I thought you’d be happy I didn’t stab him.”

“Your restraint is admirable.”

Neil brushes his fingertips over the cooling, tacky patch on his knee. He’s pretty sure Andrew had been precise enough to avoid burning himself in the process, but the spill will still dry awkwardly on his jeans. He’ll probably want to get changed out of them soon, and Neil will be more than happy to help him peel them off.

Andrew links their hands over his knee and cool metal presses against Neil’s fingers. Neil smiles down at the sight.

“You could have just shown him your hand, you know. That usually wards people off.”

Before Andrew could reply, Roland returns and places their final drinks on the tray. He picks up the empty coffee cup and inspects it with a raised eyebrow.

“You finished that fast.”

“I spilled it.” Andrew deadpans.

“Want another?”

“No, we’re going to leave soon.”

Roland winks at Andrew. “You sure you don’t want the energy? You’ve had a long day, and it’s your big night after all.”

When Andrew ignores him in favour of picking up their tray, Roland calls after them before they can disappear into the crowd.

“Enjoy your honeymoon, lovebirds!”

-

Andrew bellyflops down onto the hotel bed so hard one of the pillows jumps for freedom to the floor. Neil teeters over next to him, and it’s a wonder with how hard he lands that he doesn’t send Andrew flying off the bed too.

Turns out, weddings were exhausting. But Neil was still happy he vetoed Andrew’s original idea of just signing papers in a courthouse. The actual ceremony had been fine, stripped back to something that wasn’t ostentatious and felt very them. Seeing Andrew in an expensive tailored suit had been worth it. The quick shag they snuck in twenty minutes before the wedding was meant to begin made it even more so. The reception and after party in Eden’s was probably a mistake, considering how wrecked they both are today, but they have seven days in a ski lodge with nobody around to bother them, and Neil knows exactly how they want to spend it. Doing absolutely fucking nothing.

He turns his cheek against the plush winter duvet and peeks at… his husband. It’s a weird word to roll around on his tongue, and he decides to pocket it away and just think of him as Andrew for now. Being married changes nothing between them, other than the next time Neil gets crushed during a tournament game and gets shipped off to the ICU, Andrew won’t have to fight the nurses to be admitted to his room. He supposes being married has other benefits too. Like when they waved their newlywed bands at the check-in desk for their flight and landed themselves a free upgrade to First Class. Andrew’s fear of flying was a lot easier to manage when they could lock themselves in their private cabin and join the mile high club instead.

“Staring.”

Neil scoffs at being caught so easily, and Andrew opens his eyes to look over at him. His lips don’t move but Neil can feel the smirk radiating off of him.

“How did you know?”

“It’s been nine years. You’re predictable, Josten.”

Neil rolls his eyes and doesn’t dignify him with a response. They’ve had this same exchange hundreds, thousands of times, and they know the script off by heart. The amount of meaning held in a single word between them is so complex that it’s almost like a secret language. Not that they needed another to add to the German, Russian, French and Spanish they already shared.

“Bath?” Neil asks in English, but Andrew’s hazel eyes dilate meaning he understands the suggestion.

Neil is quick on Andrew’s tail as he gets up and moves to the bathroom. They flick the lights on and are momentarily stunned by the grandeur of the room. It’s nearly the size of the rest of their suite, with obsidian tiles stretching on for miles until they end at a ceiling-to-floor window, obstructed only by a sleek porcelain tub.

It’s so large that Neil approximates it will take upwards of twenty minutes to fill. He plays with the chrome taps until the only sound in the room is the rush of water and Andrew’s clothes hitting the floor. Neil adjusts the temperature and then he can hear the separate shower turning on behind him, and he wastes no time in joining Andrew inside.

They get washed and they get distracted. Neil comes with a shudder in Andrew’s hand and then they wash off a second time. Andrew’s still hard as he cuts off the water but Neil knows that doesn’t mean they’re not done. He trails Andrew to the bath helplessly, hopelessly gone for him.

“Get the light,” Andrew commands, and Neil nearly skids on the tiles in his eagerness to follow his orders.

When he hits the switch, the room slips into momentary darkness until his eyes adjust. Slivers of blue light pick out the edges of Andrew’s silhouette as he sinks into the water, a beacon guiding Neil back to shore.

Neil sits on the lip of the tub and trails his fingertips through the water. He’s content to admire the way the light catches the rivulets nesting in the dips and curves of Andrew’s body. Andrew doesn’t look at him, but he catches his fingertips under the surface like a merman dragging a sailor overboard. Their hands still together and he follows Andrew’s gaze outside.

The wall of glass separating them from the outside reaches up into the evening twilight. Lights marking the ski routes twinkle in the distance on snow capped mountains and the cloudless lavender sky teases specks of early starlight. Here, they are worlds away from the ghosts that haunt their pasts and all the lives they led before. With nothing but white forests rolling out into the distance, they are the only two people to exist and to have ever existed.

Andrew tugs on Neil’s fingertips for his attention. His chin is tilted upwards in question and Neil leans over to answer with his lips. The water murmurs as Andrew shifts to lean up into the kiss. His wet fingertips trail up Neil’s chest, hiking along ridges of old scars until they settle on the summit of his neck. An affectionate thumb rubs at the jut of his jaw as they kiss languidly, before making the journey back south again.

The tub squeaks under his skin as Neil eases off the edge to join him in the water. Andrew rolls his shoulders back, arms catching around the back of the tub as he lays himself open. The scars on his arms are streaks in the marble he’s been carved from, and Neil counts himself lucky that he alone gets to see Andrew bask in his self confidence like this. Neil tucks himself into his space, kneeling between his knees in a prayer as he worships Andrew’s neck with his tongue.

Neil takes his time, kneading the tight muscle on the slope of Andrew’s shoulders with his fingers, then drags them down Andrew’s pecs hard enough they leave momentary white lines. He pauses to flick and pinch at his nipples, and abandons the patchwork of colours he’s leaving on his neck to give them further attention with his tongue. He tastes his way across the expanse of his abs, hibernating under the soft layer of off-season laziness. He flicks his tongue into the dip of his navel, and Andrew tenses under him with a hitch of breath.

Neil pauses to look up at him. Andrew’s pupils are blown wide and he holds Neil’s challenging stare as Neil circles his tongue around the rim and then dips it back in. Neil’s been thinking about eating Andrew out since the bar last night and now he’s pretty sure Andrew is thinking about it too.

They are years past needing to hesitate and ask for a yes for every latitude line they want to cross. But there is a certain kind of erotic intimacy that Neil can’t get enough of when it comes to getting Andrew to admit to what he wants. So he asks anyway.

“I want to blow you,” he licks his lips and adds, “and then rim you.”

Andrew lifts his hips out of the water even before Neil can finish asking.

“Yes.”

Neil’s come at least four times in the past twenty four hours, but that one word immediately gets him hard again.

The water ripples as Neil’s hands dip under the surface to support Andrew’s weight under his thighs, and because he’s already at his navel he barely has to dip his head to catch the head of his dick in a too gentle kiss. He knows Andrew doesn’t appreciate being teased so he immediately turns it into a sloppy lick all the way down his shaft. He hoists him up a little further out of the water and holds his dick to the side so he can give his scrotum some attention.

He hears a creak, a thud and then a splash. Andrew’s arm has slipped off its perch at the back of the tub and now his fingers are tangling in Neil’s damp hair. He gives him a none too gentle tug upwards. Neil chuckles at his impatience and concedes happily, taking Andrew’s cock into his mouth as far as he can go—which after a few years of practice, was pretty damn far. He feels it brushing the back of his throat and he looks up because he knows making eye contact with Andrew drives him crazy.

Being watched like this used to make him self conscious. Now, all it does is encourage him. He hums and bobs his head, enjoying watching Andrew’s struggle as he tries to stay still under him but inevitably reacts in his own understated way. Chest hitching with stilted breath. Knuckles white where he’s still holding onto the bath with one hand. Knee jerking against Neil’s ribs. Fingers tightening in his hair. Neil loves it. He loves that he’s the only one who gets to see Andrew lose himself like this.

The angle is awkward and with his hands full keeping Andrew lifted out of the water, there’s no way he’s going to get him off with just this. But he’s happy to continue as long as Andrew’s enjoying it, and so he takes his sweet time until his breaths are coming out in pants and the hand tangled in his hair is weakly pushing him away. Neil’s lips make an obscene noise as Andrew’s flushed dick pops out, but he doesn’t have time to admire his handiwork before Andrew’s wriggling out of his grasp and turning over.

Andrew’s knees slide against the bottom of the slippery tub before Neil grabs his thighs to hold him steady. Andrew’s arms fold across the lip of the tub and he cushions his cheek on them, watching Neil with one eye over his shoulder. Neil gives him a fond look and allows himself to feel sappy for a moment. Despite how long they’ve been together, it’s still only recent that Andrew’s become comfortable being this prone with him. It helps that they discovered that being in water—whether it’s the shower, the bath, or even the swimming pool at Kevin’s house—helps ground him. Nothing bad has ever happened to him in the water. His only association with it is Neil.

Andrew frowns, sensing Neil’s sentimentality and not having the perseverance for it. He arches his back, pushing the task at hand back to Neil’s attention. Neil chuckles and runs his hands up Andrew’s back, picking off droplets with a series of tiny kisses. A shallow pool has collected in the curve of his spine at the small of his back. It’s cute.

Neil finally settles on his heels behind Andrew and spreads him open. His cheeks are only just bobbing above the water, his dick and front half of his body mostly submerged. Andrew looks content and comfortable, but antsy. Neil meets his eyes one more time, then flattens his tongue and licks a long strip from the back of his balls to his hole.

He’s relentless once he starts, because Andrew made it very clear the last few times that’s how he prefers it. He presses against his tight rim with his tongue, shallowly fucking him before pulling back to flick teasingly at the tense ring of muscle. One arm has wrapped around Andrew’s thigh to hold him steady, and the other hand kneads into the soft flesh of his ass. Andrew’s not one to make noises during sex, but Neil pauses enough between licking and kissing his hole to hear his laboured breathing struggle to stay even.

It’s difficult to go deeper with just his tongue, so eventually he slips his middle finger into his mouth and cocks an eyebrow at Andrew in silent question. Andrew nods, and Neil slides his spit-slick finger into his ass, just up to the first knuckle to loosen him up a little. A pent up little sigh escapes Andrew’s mouth and Neil kisses a freckle Andrew doesn’t know he has on his cheek. Once he’s worked him open a bit more, he returns to eating him out in earnest.

Honestly, it’s one of his favourite things to do for Andrew. He knows how amazing it feels when Andrew does it for him, and he jumps at any opportunity to make Andrew feel good in return. He thinks he could do this for hours, if Andrew would let him. But it always ends too soon.

“Neil.” Like now.

He stops and looks back up to Andrew’s face. His neck and face are flushed red, but the water is lukewarm now so he knows it’s not from the heat. He feels a little smug at eliciting such a reaction, but doesn’t want to embarass Andrew so he doesn’t mention it. Instead he waits to find out what he wants.

“Fuck me,” Andrew asks.

“Thought that was what I was doing,” Neil quips.

“Properly.”

Oh.

Even with discovering Andrew’s preference for bathtubs, this one request was still fairly rare. It only came about a few times a year after they graduated. While Neil was more than happy to bottom for Andrew until the end of time if need be, he would never throw away an opportunity to fulfill his requests.

“Oh. Yeah. Okay. Yes.”

Neil fumbles for a moment with the responsibility and Andrew rolls his eyes but waits patiently. He’s already a little relaxed from the rimjob but Neil takes his time loosening him up with his fingers. He alternates between stretching him out while curling against his prostate, and pulling out completely to lap at him soothingly with his tongue. Once he’s certain Andrew’s ready he confirms with him verbally one more time before lining up and slowly pushing in.

Doing this in their bed is a lot easier than with the water resistance and the slippery surfaces of the bath, but Neil’s determined to make this work for Andrew. His right hand grips the side of the bath tightly and he bends over him, his left snaking up to fold over Andrew’s. The metal bands on their fingers clink together and he tucks a smile into Andrew’s shoulder blades as he starts to move.

Neither of them last very long. Both from the rarity of the act, and from the fact that their stamina is running low after going so many rounds since yesterday. Andrew shudders underneath him and Neil comes quickly afterwards. Neil’s the only one to make a sound and he tries (and fails) to muffle it into Andrew’s back. His arms are trembling from where he’s trying to keep himself held up, and he pulls out slowly and carefully. Andrew turns underneath him and pulls him down so fiercely for a kiss that Neil loses his grip and they both splash down into the water.

Neil laughs when he resurfaces, and pulls the chain for the plug. They lay on the tub’s floor kissing lazily until the last of the water drains away, and then only stop when the chill raises goosebumps across their bare skin.

Neil gets out first, legs still jelly weak from orgasm, but manages to fetch a bundle of plush white towels. He wraps one around his waist and then drapes the other around Andrew’s shoulders. He uses a third to scrub gently through Andrew’s hair to dry him off, catching a disgruntled, yet immensely fond look through tendrils of wet straw.

Sometimes Neil is overwhelmed by how lucky he is to have met Andrew. From the simple miracle that they even found each other, to how they learned to trust and be vulnerable with each other. That they could have a life together on the same team, with their shared apartment and their cats and their family and their friends. That after everything the world threw at them, they could be happy.

And for that, Neil feels like the luckiest man alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi or send me prompts on [@petalplate](http://petalplate.tumblr.com)


End file.
